The Secrets That We Keep
by Data Girl 3
Summary: What secrets do the Bohemians keep from each other? This story brings all those dark secrets to light.
1. Move So Far Away

Everyone has a secret that they only reveal to a few choice people. But my secret, I can never tell anyone. Not even Angel knew my biggest secret. But I never kept my secret for the reason most people would keep theirs, to simply keep people from thinking poorly of them or some other stupid reason like that. No, this secret I have to keep, because revealing it could put everyone who heard it in danger.

I was born Thomas Cartwright. I was a resident of Lexington, Kentucky. I lived alone, working as a busboy at a local Chili's. Not many people cared to have anything to do with me, especially after learning of my sexual preference. Because of that, I kept to myself. The closest thing I had to an actual friend in those days was Godwin, the albino rabbit I saved from an animal testing facility. My life was routine; get up everyday, and spend the day at work until five, after which I'd come home for a dinner of a grilled tomato sandwich. The next day, it would all start again. The one time I would diverge from that routine was on Friday nights, when I'd stop at the bar on the way home from work for my favorite drink. In fact, it was on one of those Friday nights that everything changed.

I was returning home from my weekly visit to the bar on a cool September evening. By chance, I passed by this alley where I witnessed the event that would bring this life to an end. Thinking about what I saw that night still makes me sick at times. And unless you are unfortunate enough to watch a group of men attack somebody brutally, with broken bottles, switchblades, iron knuckles, the whole shebang, you will never know what I went through that night.

Things got even more complicated when I made my way to the police station to report what I saw. When I described what I'd seen, I was told that my description of one of the people who committed the attack/murder matched that of a long-time suspected Mafia agent. If I offered my testimony, they might be able to have due cause to place him into jail. What other choice did I have but to agree to testify?

However, things didn't end 'happily ever after' after the trial was over and the Mafia agent was in jail. At least, not in the way one would expect. Because I had been the key witness in the testimony against that agent, it was very possible I would be targeted for retaliation by the rest of them. Because of that, they placed me on the Witness Relocation Program. Most people who would be placed on that program would most likely be heartbroken, leaving their friends and family behind. But I had neither, and I hated living in that town with a dead-end job. So, I was fine with being given a new life, a new start.

In no time at all, they found me a new home, in New York's Alphabet City. I was given a new job as a graduate teaching assistant, which wouldn't be too hard for me. I had received a Bachelor's degree in teaching, but I couldn't find any school in the area willing to hire a homosexual teacher. But when the time came to select a new name for me to use, I somehow knew right off the back what name to choose.

"Collins," I had said. "Tom Collins."

I still sometimes laugh to myself at how quick I was at choosing that name. But after all, it was my favorite drink, and the one that I had drank not five minutes before I had witnessed that crime that ultimately led to my new life. And I suppose it even made more sense when my new life began, because my second life easily became my favorite one. Because it was with this life that I met friends who actually liked me, regardless of my sexual preference. Friends like Mark, Roger, and Benny. And as strange as it may sound, I have never regretted that it had been me who had witnessed that brutal and violent crime. If I hadn't, I'd still be wasting away in Lexington, Kentucky, and I'd never have met my friends, my true family, or even my Angel.

And that is why I can never reveal my past life to anyone. Because revealing this information to them might put them all in serious danger. And how could I call myself their friend if I repaid them for their years of love and friendship for me by endangering them all?

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**AN: **Mimi's secret will be up next. I should have it up in about a week, I think.


	2. All The Scars

**AN:** I know I said it would be a week before this was up, but seeing how tomorrow is World AIDS day, it seemed appropriate to post Mimi's secret now.

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One of the things that gives me the most joy in my life, apart from just being with Roger, are the times when I can hold Rodolfo in my arms. However, whenever I do, I can't help but feel a slight, gnawing guilt inside me. But it's not because of what most people would think. Yes, it is true I wish Roger and I weren't going to die because of AIDS and make our son an orphan. But I know that he'll be taken care of after we're gone, and our friends will raise him as best as they can.

Actually, the guilt I feel is due to the fact that Rodolfo could have had siblings instead of just being an only child. I know it's an odd guilt, but I still have it. I guess it's because I had a few siblings of my own, so I never really knew how it felt to be an only child. Roger, on the other hand, knows how it feels, and he's sometimes mentioned that, if he hadn't had Mark to hang around with as a child, he'd probably have been bored out of his mind.

I suppose that's why I feel bad that Rodolfo will live out his life without any siblings. But what makes the guilt even worse is knowing that he could have had them, but for one reason or another, each possible sibling had been lost before being born. Roger and the others all know about the child I had once carried, only to loose after my fall down the stairs back when we all still lived in the Loft. And they even know about Musetta, who could have been Rodolfo's half-sister if it hadn't been for the miscarriage April had experienced years ago. But no one knows about how Rodolfo could have had another half-sibling because of a huge mistake I had once made.

It had occurred a long time ago, about three years before Roger and I had even met. By now, probably everyone has learned about how I came to New York at the age of fifteen to become a dancer, how I met Angel, and ended up working at the Cat Scratch Club. And they also have gathered enough to understand that it was because of where I worked that made me start using heroin. But this is where my friends' understanding about my past and what really happened become two separate things.

I know a lot of people get HIV from using a tainted needle when they're shooting up. But the difference between me and them was that I had Angel in my life. Angel, who had already been living with HIV because of a blood transfusion performed by a careless doctor. She couldn't get me to quit, but she made sure I knew the dangers that could come about from sharing needles. Because of that, I always made sure to use a clean, unused needle every time. But I can never tell the others that I didn't get HIV from my heroin use. If they knew how it really happened, it would only cause everyone grief, and I know Roger wouldn't take the news very well, either.

It all started during one of my shifts at the Cat Scratch. There was this one guy who seemed very interested in my performance. When I started to leave the club to return to Angel's place, where I stayed back then, the guy stopped me and offered me a drink. I turned him down at first, but then he rolled his eyes and asked me 'what makes women think guys only buy them a drink because they want to get them into bed?' I had to admit he had a point, so I gave in.

That turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes I ever made. I remember enjoying a drink with this guy, but then I was momentarily distracted by some drunk forty-something guy, who had jumped on the stage to touch one of the girls and had to be thrown out by one of the club's bouncers. The guy who I had been having a drink with took advantage of my distraction, and slipped something into my drink.

Needless to say, the rest of that night comes up as a blank when I try to remember it. All I can remember is waking up hours later in a bed, inside one of those sleazy motels, with all my clothes thrown randomly over the floor. I was so angry, I only had time to throw on my leopard skin coat and throw a lamp at the guy's head before running out, leaving my clothes behind. I headed straight to Angel's place, where I broke down almost instantly. It took her a while, but she finally calmed me down enough to tell her exactly what happened. I expected her to scold me for being so dumb, but she just hugged me as tight as she could and comforted me. She always was a true friend.

Angel waited a while before taking me down to the clinic for the first time to get tested, just to play it safe, explaining that it takes a while before the test can give you accurate results. I remember wishing they'd let her come in with me when I was called in for my blood test, but when the results came back, I actually was glad she'd stayed outside. That bas-ard not only gave me the virus that would one day kill me, but he also got me pregnant!

I made the decision on the spot. If I was sick, then that baby would have been as well. And even if he wasn't, why would I have wanted a kid when it only would have been a constant reminder of how I'd been stupid enough to let some random guy drug my drink? There was no point to discussing this with Angel, especially not when doing so might make me change my mind about it. And so I just let them get rid of it.

I have never told anyone about the abortion, and I never will. Because doing so would also mean explaining to the others exactly how I really did get infected with HIV. That's something that I can't let happen. If anyone ever found out, I know they'd all go crazy. Joanne would probably insist on bringing the whole thing to court, and I have no hesitation in saying Roger would immediately demand to know who that guy was so he could go out and murder him for doing that to me. None of that would do any good, though. I never found out that guy's name, and I couldn't possibly remember what he looked like. So tracking him down for any reason would be like finding a needle in a haystack. Because of that, telling the others would only make everyone upset. It wouldn't change what had happened. Everyone is much better off not knowing the truth. There's no sense in letting something that happened so long ago affect what I have now with Roger, Rodolfo, and all my friends. No day but today.

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**AN:** This was inspired by something I once saw on the now-extinct RENT secrets, which said Mimi was originally supposed to have met Roger after an abortion. (Personally, I'm pro-life, and can only overlook theraputic abortion, but I can also understand it if the baby's the result of a rape.)

Mark's secret will be next.


	3. Follow The Man

**AN:** This chapter gave me a headache: it took forever to successfully post it.

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For years, I've been told that I'm the pillar of strength. Even Roger has told me that many times. He tells me that if I hadn't been there for him during that dark period in his life where he lost April, learned about the dreaded disease that now flows through his veins, and had to go through heroin withdrawal, then he might have followed April's example or just overdosed. If only he knew how wrong he was. The truth was, I wasn't as strong as everyone thinks I was. The truth is, if it wasn't for Roger, I wouldn't have been nearly as strong as I seemed to be.

I'll never forget how that terrible moment in time was to me. It was like the worst nightmare I could have had. And the worse part was I knew I couldn't wake up from it. In fact, it felt like the very foundation of my life had crumbled in an instant.

April was gone forever, and I'll never forget the sight of her pale body lying in that bathtub filled with water that was tinted red from her blood. Even worse was Roger. Roger Davis, the person who had been my best friend since preschool, the person who I loved like a brother. He was going to die as well. The thought of loosing someone who had been my constant companion for my whole life made me feel like a part of myself had been torn from me as well. It was more then I could stand.

What made things even worse was Roger swearing off heroin. Yes, I was glad he was finally giving up that stuff. He wasn't the same person that I grew up with when he was high. But once the withdrawal hit, he got even worse. He was always angry and violent, verbally abusing all of us. He even tried to throw a few punches at me. There was one time when he even succeeded at it. If Collins hadn't been around to wrestle him to the ground, Roger might have killed me that day. We never told him, of course. As Collins kept telling me, it was the drugs doing all of that, not Roger. But that didn't make it any easier for me.

Then came the day when I snapped. Collins had been out trying to gather up some food for us, seeing how all we had was stale cereal and sour milk. While he was out, Roger hit another bad point of his withdrawal. We had locked him in his room before Collins had gone out just in case this happened, since I wasn't able to restrain Roger in that state without Collins' help. But the locked door couldn't block out the sound of Roger screaming at me, saying that he'd never forgive me for doing this to him, demanding that I'd let him out if I really was his friend, saying it was my fault April was gone, and that he was dying too.

I did my best to block out what he was saying, reminding myself that it was the heroin talking and not Roger. But that last jab pushed me too far. I just knew I couldn't take it anymore. And so I left the Loft,with a bit of the money from our emergency jar, making my way to the park where I once saw Roger and April buying their poison. Once, in his crazed withdrawal-induced rants, Roger had said that it helped you forget everything, and that's what he needed. I knew what he was talking about at that point. Because that's what _I_ needed right now, to forget everything. Forget that Roger, my best friend, my brother, was dying, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

I eventually tracked down the right dealer and made the purchase, storing the powder in my coat pocket before returning to the Loft, trying to remember how I'd seen Roger and April prepare it. But once I arrived and slid open the metal door, thoughts about doing so completely vanished from my mind. Roger had somehow gotten out of his room. There he was, cooking some heroin in a metal spoon in the middle of the floor. How he got it, I'll never know. Collins and I had searched the entire Loft after April had died, disposing of any heroin stashes we could find. But I suppose it was possible we missed some. And here Roger was, getting very close to injecting it into his vein.

To this day, I'll never know how I did it. But somehow, I managed to pry the liquid-filled spoon from Roger's hand to pour it down the drain. The moment I did so, Roger completely broke down. When Collins finally retuned with the food, Roger was still sobbing like a baby, curled up in a fetal position on the floor, only allowing me to try and comfort him.

It took us over an hour, but we finally managed to get Roger into bed, where he fell asleep almost instantly. Collins then told me to get some rest myself and that he'd look after Roger that night. I didn't even try to argue. But before I went into my room, I made a quick stop into the bathroom, where I took out the powder I'd purchased earlier. For a moment, I just looked at it, contemplating how white was the most accurate color for death in a bag. Then, without hesitation, I dumped the stuff into the toilet.

I never told anyone about my purchase, and I don't intend to. But I do know one thing. That night was the reason I was a so-called 'pillar of strength' during that whole terrible ordeal. When Roger broke down that night, he only allowed me to comfort him. That was the moment I figured out that he needed me to be strong for him. If I wasn't able to do so, Roger might not make it through this. I had to stay strong, for him, and that's exactly what I promised to do that very night.

I'm always applauded on how I stayed strong for Roger during that time. But the truth is, if Roger hadn't needed me, I would have gone down with him. So, it really should be Roger who deserves credit. Him needing me. _That _was the source of my strength.

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**AN: **I wanted to emphasise the friendship between Roger and Mark in this chapter. I hope I did a passible job of it.

Maureen's secret will be next


	4. How Could We?

**AN: **I didn't expect this to be done so fast. Needless to say, I was surprised. And hopefully, so will you.

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I'm always good at hiding it. I can tell, because no one seems to notice. But there are times when I find myself so uncomfortable just being around Roger. And no, it's not because of anything he did. It's because of something I did. Something I can never tell him. If I do, I know he'll hate me forever. Yet, every time we're together, if everyone else wasn't there to distract me from him, I might end up blabbing about it.

It happened a long time ago, before he was diagnosed with HIV. Roger had gone back to Scarsdale with Mark for the week when Mark's cousin's son was having his bar mitzvah, to help Mark survive a week with his relatives. This left just me and April alone in the Loft.

In no time flat, we'd turned the boyfriend-free week into a seven-day 'Girl Party', with window shopping everyday, sneaking into random clubs after nightfall, and staying up all night experimenting with new hairstyles and makeup combinations. At one point, we even got our hands on Mark's camera, which he conveniently forgot, and shot random videos of each other just being completely ridiculous. In fact, it was during that eventful week that the two of us got our identical star tattoos. It was like freshman year at high school all over again, except this time, there were no mothers around to ground us.

But then we reached that last night before the boys were due back. In honor of our last night of 'freedom', we went out to this place on 11th street, called Webster Hall. We spent the whole night there, drinking jello shots and jumping and dancing to the blaring music. Unfortunately, neither of us thought about keeping track of how much we drank that night. It was a mistake we would always regret.

When morning came, I woke up with what had to be the mother-load of hangovers. It was so bad, it felt like there was an entire construction team trying to drill their way out of my head. I just lied there for the longest time, trying to get enough strength to push the pain aside long enough to fish out some aspirin from the medicine cabinets. But painkillers, and the pain from my killer hangover, completely vanished from my mind the moment I heard the sudden cry next to me. I immediately sat up in bed, the falling sheets exposing everything on my naked body from the navel up, and immediately froze at the sight of April, holding the blankets up to cover herself, with the most shocked look I'd ever seen on her face. It was very clear that she wasn't wearing anything either.

When Mark and Roger came back home, the two of us pretended it didn't happen. After all, it wasn't something we planned on. We were completely out of it at the time. And so, the two of us made an unspoken agreement to never mention that incident ever again.

But then, a year later, Mark took me aside to tell me the terrible news that he'd just learned from Roger. April had tested positive for HIV. The moment I found out, I secretly made an appointment of my own. Even after my results came back negative, the secret April and I had kept threatened to bubble to the surface. But every time I came close to admitting what had happened when Mark and Roger had been away, I always lost my courage, out of fear of how they'd react.

Finally, after about two months after we learned about the HIV, I decided to just buck up and tell them. On the morning of July nineteenth, I woke up with the intention that I wouldn't let this day pass without revealing what had happened with me and April. But I never got the chance. That very day, Roger found her in the bathtub.

In the aftermath of that terrible day, when her funeral was held, I made a promise, to myself and to April. A promise that no one, especially not Roger, would ever find out about that night. Her death was hard enough on him as it was. There was no way I could ever pour salt onto his wounds like that. Besides, there was no telling what he'd do if he found out now. And I definitely can't tell him now, even thought he's moved on from her and has a life with Mimi. Because now, it's not just my friendship with Roger on the line, but my relationship with Joanne. If she found out, how could she ever find it in her heart to forgive me for it?

April had taken our secret to her grave. How could I do anything less?

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** AN: **The next secret up will be Joanne's.


	5. Margins and Discipline

**AN:** I forgot to mention before. If you check out my profile, you'll find a link to my new RENT board. Please check it out.

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I always make it a habit to not let what people say get to me. When you're living in a society that's filled with people who look down on you if you're a woman who is in a relationship with another woman, you can't do anything else. But despite that, I can't seem to bring myself to forget something Maureen once said about me, after our first attempt at committing to one another ended horribly. 'Anal retentive', she had called me. As angry as I was at that point, those words still hurt.

I know it's important for me to just relax sometimes, but I can't allow myself to relax to the point where I throw all responsibility out the window. I can't make that mistake ever again. Not after what it cost me the last time I shunned my responsibilities.

Growing up, one of my closest relationships was the one I had with my grandmother. Whenever my parents were working, she would spend the whole afternoon with me, taking me out for ice cream in the summer, or just sitting with me in the kitchen, offering me her fresh-baked oatmeal cookies while telling me some traditional stories that her own grandmother told her. She was everything a grandmother should be, and I loved her dearly. But then, when she needed me the most, I repaid her love by turning my back on her.

I was 18, and it was a week before I was supposed to graduate from Miss Porter's. I was all set to start attending law school. Some of my friends from Miss Porters talked me into having a night out. We had planned it for over a month. But then, on the night we had planned to go out, my parents suddenly announced that they were having a meeting with some senator, and I had to stay home and watch my grandmother. She had been sick for a few weeks, and had been prescribed some medicine from the doctor. Most importantly, she was getting to the point where she had to reduce her mobility because her legs weren't as strong as they once were.

I was so angry at my parents. My friends and I had planned this night out for a whole month, and they wait until the last minute to tell me I can't go? I was so upset, I made the worst judgment I ever made, one that haunts me to this day. As soon as my parents had left, I made sure my grandmother had taken her medicine and went to sleep. Then I went out to meet my friends. I figured that my grandmother would be fine for an hour or so. She was asleep, so what could she get up to? If only I'd known.

When I came back from my night out, I went to check up on my grandmother. However, I was met with the worst thing that I could have been greeted with. While I had been gone, my grandmother had woken up and tried to get out of bed to go to the bathroom. But she'd tripped over the rug and had hit her head on her hope chest. When the paramedics arrived, they announced that she probably had been lying there for a while, just bleeding on her floor, because no one had been around to help her after she'd fallen.

My grandmother had died that night. If I had stayed home like I was supposed to, I could have prevented her from falling. At the very least, I could have called for help as soon as she'd fallen, and the ambulance would have arrived in time to save her. But I hadn't been there when she needed me the most. Because I had selfish and went out, my grandmother was gone forever. It was my fault, and that guilt would always be with me.

Since that night, I made myself a promise. I would never again set my responsibilities aside for my personal wants. And to ensure that I completed my responsibilities, I needed to make sure everything was done right. If one detail was neglected, then I wasn't living up to my responsibility. After all, it was because of the neglected detail of what would happen if my grandmother had to get up while I was out with my friends that led to her death.

So, when Maureen had called me anal retentive, it was almost as if she'd slapped me across the face. After all, there's a difference between just being anal retentive and taking precautions to make sure I wouldn't have to live with making another mistake, like the one I made the night my grandmother died.

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**AN:** This series of one-shots is almost complete. There's only two more chapters to go. However, if anyone has any ideas for additions, please send me their ideas in a PM.

Next secret will be Emily's. (And if you're one of the people who dislike my OC, you can just skip that one; it's the only chapter she's mentioned in.)


	6. You Don't Stand a Chance

** AN:** I realize this probably isn't as good as the others, but I felt that this secret had to be told. (And a reminder to the Emily-haters who might be reading, this chapter is the only time she appears in this fic, so you can just skip it if you want.)

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Someone once said "it is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend." I think I know exactly what that person meant. The strange thing is, the friend in question never really did anything to me. If fact, the offense was done long before we'd met. But that doesn't stop me from feeling this way at times.

Since we got together, I've never felt the need to question Mark's feelings for me. And there are moments when I have to stop and think how strange it is that some other girl hadn't came along and given him a second glance before he and I had met. I'm sure if they had, they would have realized how lucky they'd be to have someone like him in their lives.

For me, Mark has been the one who always seemed to stand by me, the one I could just be myself with. There were even times when we'd find ourselves just talking with each other for hours, completely loosing track of the time. Once, it was because of these hour-long talks we both ended up being unfashionably late for one of Roger's gigs.

I hadn't experienced a relationship like the one I had with Mark with anyone before. At least, not since my brother, Zack, had died. Looking back, I can't believe it took us so long to realize we were falling for one another.

But even now that we're together, there's still one thing that I find bothers me. I know he and Maureen are over, and that their current relationship is restricted to friendship. So I can't explain why the fact that they used to be a couple upsets me so much. There are some moments when Maureen brings it up, like it's some silly little story told for laughs. Sort of like how you would tell your friends about the time you filled the school swimming pool with rubber ducks for a senior prank. I jokingly tell her that I'm not interested in hearing all the sordid details of her personal history with Mark. But I never do anything to let everyone see how much it truly bothers me.

I know some people might think I'm just feeling unreasonably jealous. But I don't think that's the right word to describe it. For one thing, I know it's over between them, and I'm sure Mark would never cheat on me with her. And besides, if it was jealously, shouldn't my general attitude be wondering what Mark ever saw in her or something like that? Because of that, I don't believe I'm just feeling jealous. The thing is, I _can_ see what he saw in her. I completely understand why he carried a torch for her for so long. And that's exactly my problem.

Maureen is so fiery, so wild and untamed. She's the type of person who is completely spontaneous. And she never hesitates to say exactly what's on her mind. There are absolutely no boundaries to what she'll do. If a song she likes comes on the radio, she'd even jump up on the bar to dance to it. In fact, she's even done that a few times.

I'm nothing like Maureen. I could never that brave, to just jump up and dance in front of complete strangers like she can. And I could never do half the wild stuff she seems to do on a regular basis. When you're the sister of a cop, you grow up minding the rules. And when you're the caretaker of a large group of children, you have to be extra careful at setting a good example. Pretty soon, you find yourself acting like a role model all the time, even when the children are not there.

So, I suppose it's safe to say the relationship I have with Mark now is completely different with the one he had with Maureen. When I think of Maureen and Mark's history, I can imagine how things were for them. They were opposites in many areas, but I'm sure that brought an extra fire to their relationship. With Maureen, I'm sure Mark's life was never boring. I can appreciate how intense a relationship with someone like Maureen can be. And since Mark had been holding a torch for her for so long, it must mean that he enjoyed the intensity of it.

I suppose that's why the thought of them being together in the past bothers me so much. Because I completely understand why he liked her so much. Most women would probably feel jealous when thinking about their man's previous relationships, because they might wonder what he saw in them. But as for me, I don't think that way at all. Instead, I only wonder why Mark, if given the chance, would _ever _choose someone like me over someone like Maureen.

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**AN:** Roger's secret will be next. All things considered, that will probably be my personal favorite chapter.


	7. Can't Hide From Your Eyes

**AN:** This is actually something that's been floating around in my head for a while now. It started with a conversation in which me and some other people were wondering what Roger and Mimi were saying during Without You, when Roger catches Mimi buying drugs in the alley. (The singing kinda blocks out what they're saying at that part.) I started out planing to have this posted as a songfic, but it managed to work its way into this story instead. Hopefully, you'll enjoy it as much as I do.

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Sometimes, when I wake up during the night, I find myself just lying awake. In those moments, I take the chance to gaze at the woman who's sleeping next to me. It's always even more enjoyable to me when the moon is shining through the bedroom window so it casts its light over Mimi's sleeping form. That little added bonus makes me remember the night she entered my life, and how far we came since then.

These are the moments when I can't stop myself from thinking about how I might not have had this, how I could have still been waking up each day without her lying next to me. And not just because of how she came so close to dying in my arms that Christmas Eve that seems so long ago, but because of how stupid I'd been in that first year.

I know Mimi's always telling me to 'forget regret', but there are some things I can't seem to forget, such as how I kept pushing her away at first, and when I balked upon learning of her personal history with Benny. But there's one thing that I regret most of all.

Angel had been sick for a while at the time. I always seemed to have trouble stopping in to visit unless I was dragged there by the others. Hospitals and me just didn't mix well. But on that night, I happened to pass by the hospital during a walk, and before I knew it, I was walking down the hall to her room. The only one there at the time was Collins, but he'd momentarily stepped out for a quick trip to the bathroom. This left me alone with Angel. We started talking about a bunch of stupid stuff, like how that song I was working on was coming. But then she asked about Mimi. I almost had no idea what to say at that point. I mean, she'd been doing pretty well. I hadn't seen any sign of her shooting up in almost a week, so that was a step in the right direction, right? But when it came to 'her' as in 'us'? I had no idea what to say about it. If you wanted to get technical, we were together at that point, but things weren't the same between us as it had been before. At the start of the year, it was like we couldn't last long without at least holding hands. But now, we were constantly walking on eggshells around each other. And to be honest with myself, I seriously missed how things used to be. But I had no idea how to fix things.

I ended up explaining all of that to Angel, who listened quietly, the way she always did. She seriously could have made a great school guidance counselor, if it wasn't for the AIDS. However, I don't think I was ready for what she told me to do.

"Tell her, Roger," she had said. "Tell Mimi how you feel about her. Don't let her slip away."

That was all well and good for Angel to say, as I kept thinking to myself after I left the hospital. The big problem was, I had no idea how I felt about her. At least, not really. Yeah, I couldn't deny how much I missed her and how things used to be between us. But coming out and saying those three words? I didn't know if I could do that. What did that word mean, anyway? I thought I knew long ago, but I wasn't sure anymore.

When I walked back to the Loft that night, it was probably the only thing on my mind. I knew Angel had a point, but even_ if_ I was sure of my feelings, was I ready to admit them to her? We hadn't even known each other for a year, and considering how we'd been acting around each other lately, would it be right to say something like that now? And how would she react? Tell her how I feel about her? Easier said then done.

I can't remember making a decision about it, but I soon found myself heading in the direction of the Cat Scratch Club. According to my watch, Mimi should have been getting off of work at that time. And, as I made my way over to the club, I reached my decision. I would explain how I felt, all right. I would explain how I did care for her, and a lot, but I couldn't remember what love actually meant, and why I wasn't ready to say it just yet. Hopefully, she'd understand, right?

But that's when I reached the club. And the moment I did, my plans immediately disappeared from my mind at what I saw. I had just told Angel how good she'd been at quitting and all of that. And there she was, standing right under a streetlamp like it was a fu-king spotlight, buying that sh-t from _him_! How could she do that?! She was doing so well, and she was just throwing all that progress down the drain!

I won't soon forget the fear that was on her face when she turned to find me walking up. But at that point, I was too angry to care that she was spouting rapid apologies to me as I ripped the powder-filled baggie from her hand.

"No!" I had shouted, taking her face in my hands, putting all my self-control into not thinking about how soft her cheek always felt under my touch. "I tried to help you, Mimi. I really did. And I actually believed we were going to make this work. But I guess you really cared more about the smack then you did about me." As soon as I had said that, I closed my ears to her pleading cries and walked off, throwing the baggie at her as I did so. After all, that's what she'd really wanted.

But as I stormed away from the Cat Scratch, I felt my anger being slowly replaced with something entirely different with each step. It was that familiar empty, hopeless feeling I'd felt everyday before Mimi had came up to my door with that candle. For a few brief moments, I considered turning around and going back to where I'd left Mimi standing there. But I quickly shot that idea down. She'd made her choice. There was no changing it.

When I arrived back at the Loft, I immediately noticed the look Mark was giving me. I assumed that he'd heard what had just happened with me and Mimi, and I started chewing him out for looking at me like I did something wrong. After all, it was Mimi who had chosen her precious smack over me. But it turned out that wasn't what Mark was going to say. It was then that I learned what had happened. Collins had called not five minutes before I came home. He'd said just two words.

"It's over."

I couldn't believe it. Angel was gone. I'd just spoken to her, and now she was dead. What made things even worse to bear was when I found myself thinking about what would happen when Mimi found out, if she hadn't already. Not only were things over between us, but now her best friend was dead. For the second time that night, I considered going back to find her. But I couldn't do that. I knew if I did, I'd find myself wanting her back. And if I did that, I knew I'd just continue getting hurt. And it wasn't as if she wanted me. She had her fix, and she was happy with that. No, we couldn't be together like that. If anything, we could only be friends. But even then, I knew I wouldn't be satisfied with that. I would have continued to want more. She was like a drug to me. Being near her would only leave me wanting more and more.

That's why I couldn't stay in the city anymore. With Mimi, it was all or nothing for me. And it couldn't be all because of the drugs. I ended up pawning my guitar and used the money to buy that rust bucket car to take me as far away as I could go. It was the only solution. As long as I was in the city, I would continue to care about Mimi when it was clear she didn't care about me in the same way.

But even in Santa Fe, she still haunted me. I'd hear a random girl laugh and I'd think it was her laughing. I'd order a burger from a restaurant and I'd find myself thinking about how Mimi had eaten a soy burger on our first date at the Life after Maureen's protest. Everything I did, everything I saw, reminded me of her.

I did everything I could to get her off my mind. Anything to get over her and move on. And that included the girl I met out there. Melissa. She came up to me when I played my new fender on the streets for money. Every day, she'd come by and just talk with me, and I admit I started looking forward to her 'visits'.

Then came that night in late November. Melissa came by to see me, like she did everyday. This time, I invited her to have a bite to eat. But when the night wore on, she ended up coming back with me to the small apartment I stayed at. There, things started to get rather serious. And that's when it happened.

We were there in my apartment, down to our underwear, when she started to kiss me. But the moment she did, my mind instantly wandered, and I began thinking about how it felt when it was Mimi who was kissing me, and touching me. The way her skin felt against mine, and the sound of her voice saying my name.

And when Melissa looked up at me, I wasn't able to see Melissa's amber eyes. Instead, all I could see were a pair of wide, bright, beautiful brown eyes. Mimi's eyes.

And that's when what I was doing fully registered. I couldn't do this. Not with Melissa. And not with anyone else. Only Mimi. Because I would _never _be able to get over her. I would _never _get her out of my mind. I loved her. And I couldn't deny it anymore.

And so I took the next bus back to New York, working on the song I planned on singing only for her. She was my song, my Mimi. The only thing I wanted right then was to have her forgive me for everything I did, and hopefully give me another chance. Needless to say, I got exactly what I wanted, even though, for a few terrible moments, it looked like I'd came to my senses too late.

To this day, Mimi sometimes asks me what Santa Fe was like. I'll always tell her the truth. I always tell her that I was completely miserable there because she was all I could think about. I never mention Melissa, though. But then again, why would I? She wasn't really important to me, and would never, ever come close to my Mimi. I do feel bad that I led her on like that, but she seemed to understand when I decided to come back to New York. In fact, she'd even said that she wasn't the type to stand in the way of someone who was clearly so much in love, and told me that she hoped I'd get the forgiveness I wanted from Mimi.

Mimi always preaches forgetting regret. But how can I regret the fact that I have her in my life, or that she's forgiven me for the he-l I put her through? I do regret, however, that it took me so long to admit that I loved Mimi. And I regret even more that it took some random girl I met in Santa Fe to get me to realize it.

I've never forgotten Melissa, and I don't think I will. I only hope that she'll end up finding someone who makes her as happy as Mimi makes me.

* * *

**AN:** And that's the end of this collection of one shots. If anyone has any suggestions for more, please send me a PM. Thank you for reading.


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